


Dirty Dancing

by cattchi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dancing, Frottage, Getting Together, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, M/M, dirty dancing (2) au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattchi/pseuds/cattchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith + his makeshift family move to Cuba, and Keith contemplates his existence; learning to dance latin ballroom with a little extra oomph (courtesy of poolboy staff, Lance) apparently helps with existentialism.</p>
<p>Dirty Dancing (2) AU! (Modern setting.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cardigans in Cuba

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first AU! \\(^_^)/ I am pretty new to writing fic, and plot is usually a big hinderance for me, so I thought that using an AU as a base would help me improve other areas of writing while I get a feel for things! Dirty Dancing 2 is such a fave haha, and it was interesting (DIFFICULT) to write klance into such a cheesy plot, but I definitely learned a lot.
> 
> I have this completely finished, and I'll update every couple days or so as I go through editing!~

Keith breathed in deeply. He was doing this for Shiro. And Allura. The humid air didn’t refresh his thoughts, nor did the constant shaking of the car.

“You don’t have to brood.” Pidge says. Their arms are touching, and sweat sticks them together. She shuffles suddenly, reaching her hands under her shirt and  _ God, not again _ . Keith grimaces when the silicone slaps into his lap.

“Can you  _ not  _ take off your boobs all the time?” Keith says. “At least give them to Allura.”

“They’re making me sweaty.” Pidge says with a shrug, fanning her shirt off of her stomach. “Stop being a baby and enjoy the view.”

Keith moves towards the window a little more, but another bump in the road presses him against her slick arm and he sighs, not helping her case, and wonders how he got  _ here _ .

_ Here _ , being Varadero, Cuba.

He glances at Shiro in the passenger’s seat. It was because of him. His eyes catch Allura’s, next to Pidge, and he tries to breathe deeply again. Shiro  _ and _ Allura. The foster care system sucked ass most of the time, and group homes were worse. But when Keith was 10 his group home leader had some funny “character building” ideas (and an even funnier moustache), and before he knew it he was signed up for dance lessons through a personal connection. Coran must have looked into his family history a little. But Keith found that being able to execute the perfect step, the perfect synchronization, calculated and polished - it was secure.

Shiro and Allura were young,  _ are _ still young, but they took him in, more as a younger sibling than a child. It took him a long time to adjust to the stability of their life, but he embraced it.

But this. 

This was not stable. Moving to Cuba was a huge shift that Keith didn’t think he was ready for. Pidge had teased him, tongue out and all, about being scared. He wasn’t scared.

Shiro worked for Mr. Holt, the executive of Kerberos Enterprises. Mr Holt moved to Cuba for work, and of course Shiro had to go, too. And Allura. And Keith. Allura was easily able to secure a position as a dance instructor for hotel guests, but Keith was taken from a high school where he quietly and deliberately melted into the background, and thrust into another one where he would be the New Kid.

But he did well in school, and Mr. Holt was more than willing to fund further education. Keith was an unofficial representation of the familial edge Mr. Holt liked to advertise to his clients. Keith would refuse his offers, but he would be letting Shiro and Allura down in the process. So he sticks it out like how Pidge’s arm is  _ still _ sticking to his.

He groans. “Why are you so sweaty all the time? And why didn’t you ride with your parents?”

“It’s  _ hot _ !” Pidge says, shoving him, as if that answered everything. Shiro turns around in the front seat to give Keith a stern look. 

He huffs and slumps a little in the seat, glancing out the window at the city passing by. There’s colour everywhere. The houses, the shops, the people. He can hear laughter, shouts, music. Everything.

Allura looks at him over the top of Pidge’s head, her white hair piled high on top of her head, not a strand out of place despite the frantic moving days. She smiles gently.

Keith nods at her and tries to offer a consoling smile, but Allura isn’t easy to fool. 

“There’s a pool.” Shiro offers. He turns in his seat again to talk to them. “Which I hope will bring you outside a little more, Pidge. That laptop can’t be good for you eyes.”

“You aren’t my dad.” Pidge sticks her nose up. The sweat is making her glasses slip down a little.

Shiro laughs. “That may be so, but I know he’s going to say the same thing.”

Keith tunes out Pidge’s grumbling, and tries to drink in the busy atmosphere outside the car. It’s a bit too much all at once, though, so he looks straight ahead at the back of the driver’s headrest until they reach the hotel.

 

The hotel is grand. Keith has stayed in hotels before, for Allura’s dance recitals he never participated in, and business trips that Shiro took them on. But there’s a pink and turquoise flair that suits the sunset sky, tipping the aesthetic favour into something Keith has never seen before. 

He can read on the balcony of their hotel room and look out over the pool, where Pidge always sits in the shade with a giant floppy hat, and a determination to use her laptop outside. Keith sees her there now, chatting with her brother and some of his friends who came for a vacation.

“Why don’t you join them, Keith?” Shiro asks, his presence startling. Keith doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t want to be a burden, either. “Have some fun before you start school tomorrow?”

“Alright.” Keith says, mustering up an assuring smile. It’s worth it, because Shiro’s face relaxes.

Keith bookmarks his page and starts towards the pool. The hotel is always busy. It’s a liminal space of people coming and going, and the pool is the most crowded area. He steps over sunbather’s feet, and tries not to bump into people as he makes his way to Pidge.

“This is Keith.” Matt says, holding up his arm when he spots him. There are friends there Keith hasn’t met before, at least he doesn’t think so. He likes Matt well enough, but his friends get on his nerves most of the time.

“The charity case that your father is working on?”

Keith feels his temper flair, but Pidge is already clicking her tongue.

“The same father who’s funding this little vacation for you, if  _ your _ father’s stocks have anything to tell.” 

Keith is glad that if he needs to hold his tongue for Shiro and Allura’s sake, at least Pidge can run her mouth without a filter, and without consequence. He sits down in a white lawnchair, grateful for the shade from the heavy Cuban Royals, leaves bouncing languidly with the breeze. 

“What are you going to study, anyways? Not fashion, obviously.” another friend says. Keith has met this boy at  _ least _ twice, but he can’t remember his name. Whoever he is, he can suck it. Keith is going to wear a cardigan in cuba if he wants to.

Besides that, what  _ is _ he going to study? Maybe aeronautical? Could he work as an executive for Kerberos, like Shiro, without having to do a Business degree? 

He leans forward to just say ‘Business’ anyway, like he usually does, but there’s a sudden  _ crash! _ and a shock of wet cold running down his arm and side.

He jumps up, glass crunching under his sneakers, apologies on his lips, when he sees he bumped into the path of one of the pool staff, toppling the drinks off his tray.

He leans down to help pick the pieces of glass up off the ground.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” the staff says quickly, his accent thick, his voice clearly annoyed, but smothered with Customer Service.

“I bumped into it.” Keith says, still picking up the glass. He looks up to meet rich blue eyes, and tan skin with a smattering of freckles across a sharp nose. His breath catches, when the staff smiles at him, albeit a bit tightly, telling of the strain it takes for him to be polite. Keith is familiar with it, though not of late.

“Just fucking get new drinks. Shitty-ass staff, damn.” Breton. That was the guy’s name. Keith hates that he remembers it, now.

Pidge wipes some marguarita off her laptop screen. It’s been through worse. Keith clenches and unclenches his fists, and doesn’t give Matt or his friends a second glance as he walks away, following the broad shoulders of the pool staff to the bar.

He spots someone with the manager’s tag, and approaches her quickly. “I’d like to pay for those drinks.” He points to the boy, laying the tray on the counter.

The manager just waves him off, though, so Keith starts towards the staff instead. He’s tall and skinny, his uniform shirt tucked neatly into his pants but hanging loose at his shoulders. The first couple buttons are undone, and Keith can see a small golden chain tucked into his undershirt.

“Tengo siento.” Kieth says.

“I speak English.”

Keith bites his lip. He nods at the tray, carrying broken glass and sorry looking lemon slices. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

Keith furrows his eyebrows. “It’s not pity. I didn’t want you to get in shit for something I did.”

“Well aren’t you charitable.”

“It’s not being charitable, it’s being a decent human being.” Keith says, letting his annoyance slip through his teeth.

The boy pauses, then looks up at a seemingly random shout of Spanish, and nods at Keith before he leaves in a rush. Apology accepted, he supposed? He digs into his pocket and drops whatever coins are in there next to the messy tray.

 

~

That night, Allura finds him in the family room, lights flickering from the grainy movie projected onto the wall. He was standing, arms up and in form for a dance, watching his parents step together and apart on the screen, eyes only for one another.

“They were so good.” Allura says, leaning against the frame of the doorway.

“You’re good, too.” Keith says, honestly. “And Shiro, when he tries.”

Allura steps into Keith’s frame with a laugh, and he rests his hands on her shoulders with practiced finesse. “Shiro is okay.”

Keith laughs, letting her lead him into a spin. 

“What about you, Keith? Are you okay?” Allura asks. She’s always been to the point. “You don’t usually pull that clip out unless something’s bothering you.”

Keith shrugs. “It’s just the move.”

“It was a bad time to pull you out of school.” Allura says, biting her lip. Keith wonders if that’s where he picked up the habit. “Shiro and I thought about it hard, we really did. But we thought this might be good for you, too.”

Keith doesn’t really see  _ how _ , but he’s not going to complain. So he just nods, and lets her kiss his cheek before she goes to bed.

He plays the conversation with the staff member over and over in his head, the strong headed certainty the boy obviously held that all resort goers were obviously the same ate at Keith’s conscious. He wasn’t like that. Sure, people  _ were _ , and it fucking sucked. But Keith wasn’t a part of that born-rich life, and it was jarring being thought of as one of them, even if his comfortable life was all due to their influence.

He groans, and flips his pillow to the cool side, wishing for sleep but putting it off - school would start tomorrow.


	2. Show Me Some of that Spanish Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm weak and these chapters are kinda short so i'll probably update every day - they aren't taking as long to edit as i thought! ^_^

School was shitty. He read the books last year. He answered one of the teacher’s questions and someone fucking laughed at his answer, so. He wasn’t doing  _ that _ again. There was still a lot of material he hadn’t covered, though, so he opted to stay behind and power through. 

“Hey.”

Keith looks up. It’s Matt. “Hey.”

“You coming, or what?” Matt grins, and it’s eerie how much he looks like Pidge. Or rather, how Pidge looks like him.

“I’m busy.” Keith says. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Matt shrugs, but he’s not mean. “We’re all supposed to go to the Country Club Saturday night. Are you gonna be studying then, too?”

Keith snorts. Even if both he and Matt were aware they were very, very different, he was always nice. “I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Alright.” Matt nods. “Don’t miss the last van.”

 

Keith misses the last van. He ran for it and everything. He shrugs off his school uniform jacket, tucking it over his arm. He could walk. He could definitely walk.

It’s late afternoon but the sun still beats down. Keith wishes he could move with purpose but he’s not sure of the right roads to take to get back to the hotel. He has a feeling, though, so he follows his gut and walks what he hopes is a familiar route.

There are vendors on the roadside, selling fruits Keith wishes he could sink his teeth into, but he didn’t bring any money. He’s eyeing fresh mangoes when cheerful shouts draw his thoughts elsewhere - a small plaza. They’d passed it in the van before.

He makes his way through the crowded street, music growing louder, and the shouts- no, the singing, joyful and quick, fills his ears. They’re dancing. Just there, in the street!

Keith stops to watch, intrigued. Every part of every person’s body is moving, flowing, yet he can’t discern a pattern or routine step aside from the occasional clap of hands. He’s never seen dancing like this - sure, he’s seen movies, but there’s something  _ more _ , here, in the street, where even the couple of children present are rapidly moving their feet and little hips in time to the lively guitars and drums - it’s so  _ alive _ .

Keith scans the faces, all smiling and thrilled, and he finds the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he watches a boy dance, shoulders slim but broad, shaking rhythmically, and hips flowing like water under the hot sun, and then,  _ oh- _

_ Oh, _ he’s moving his hips, in a circle, a twist, and then in a series of rolling thrusts that make Keith’s cheeks go red in a way that has nothing to do with the heat. He looks away quickly, embarrassed, but can’t help but pull his gaze back, and when he does, he catches deep blue eyes. He recognizes him. Wonders if he should at all, after only seeing him once. He can’t remember Matt’s friends to save his life, but he remembers  _ him _ .

He’s about to leave, but the boy isn’t dancing anymore, instead walking towards him, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his arm.

“You feel the sudden urge for Cuban music, huh?” he says, giving Keith’s uniform a once over. It’s sticking to him with sweat. Keith tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Is he supposed to act like he knows him? 

“You ruined my drinks yesterday.” 

“Oh! Oh. Sorry.  _ Again _ .” Keith says, pointedly. He took too long to think. He presses his mouth in a line. “The van left without me.” he explains.

“Oh. I can walk you back.” The boy offers.

“I can go by myself.” Keith says quickly. “I can find my way there.”

“In what? A week? Month, maybe? You don’t look like you’re used to Cuban streets.” Keith isn’t sure he likes this guy’s brand of humour, but he still feels bad about the drinks and wants to do  _ something _ to set it right, so he stays put while he walks back through the dancers to one of the musicians.

“Abeulito!” He calls, and gives a quick hug and a kiss to an older man, before dancing through the square again and nodding for Keith to follow him.

“What did you call him?” Keith asks, glancing back.

“Abuelito.” he says, with affection. “Grandfather.”

Keith nods in understanding, shifting his books on his shoulder. 

“So what, you know like five words in Spanish?”

“Maybe 10.” Keith says. Lance laughs, but he was proud of those ten words. He couldn’t roll his  _ r _ ’s, but still.

“And in…” he gestures at his face, his upturned eyes specifically, and Keith almost laughs. He lifts his eyebrows, waiting. “Where are you from?”

“Canada.” Keith says, feeling a small smirk pull his mouth into a smile.

“Alright, alright. Canada. Well, I’m from here.”

Keith laughs.

“I’m Lance.” Lance says, holding out his hand. Keith wipes his palm discreetly in his pants before he offers it back.

“I’m Keith.”

“Keith.” Lance says his name, the  _ th _ stopping short on his accent. It makes him smile.

“Hola.” Keith says, offering a little wave, and Lance laughs, nodding.

“Hola, hola.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “So where are the other eight words?”

Keith grins, but doesn’t indulge him. 

“I know who you are, though. Kind of. All the staff were told about Holt and your dad staying at the hotel.”

“My dad?”

“You know.” Lance says, gesturing to his face again. “Tall buff guy. Looks kinda badass with his scar.” Lance rubs his finger straight across the bridge of his nose.

“He’s not my dad.” Keith says.

“Oh.” Lance says. “Well, we were told about you guys staying. So we wouldn’t fuck up.”

“You followed through well.”

“I thought you said it was your fault?” Lance says, and Keith shrugs. “So why are you here, then?”

“Still in school.” Keith says.

“What are you studying for?” Lance asks. He eyes Keith’s bookbag. He reaches across him and lifts the strap from his shoulder. He slings the bag over himself, and takes a peek inside at the heavy books.

Keith shrugs, happy for lost weight on his back that was making him sweat. “Mr. Holt is going to put me through University once I graduate. I dunno what I want to do, though.”

There’s a flash of something across Lance’s eyes that Keith’s can’t identify, but it’s gone in a moment, and Lance is patting his back, emphasizing the stick of his shirt to his skin. “Sounds nice.”

Keith frowns. It’s  _ not _ nice. He doesn’t want to  _ go _ . He likes studying and reading but he likes to figure things out on his own, and he doesn’t think he’s above any rules but he’s just not interested in them, either. 

“I’d study aeronautical. Astronomy. All of that.” Lance says, stretching his arms back above his head. It takes a moment, but it clicks with him that Lance might not be  _ able _ to go to University, and he feels kind of guilty. He’s not sure what to say, so he changes the subject.

“I’ve never seen dancing like that!” Keith blurts.

Lance looks at him oddly, and laughs, but it’s not mean. “You live under a rock in Canada?”

Keith frowns. “I mean, I  _ have  _ seen it, but not like that. Not really. I know ballroom dancing, mostly.”

Lance’s face shows an obvious lack of understanding, but he nods anyways.

Keith slows down as they pass a group of singers, this atmosphere softer and slower than in the plaza, but still filled with a lilt of life that inexplicably pulls Keith in. Lance hums along, smiling.

Keith feels him tense next to him suddenly, and Lance pulls on his arm. “We have to get off the street.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ि०॰०ॢी
> 
> @cattchi on tumblr and @_cattchi on twitter!! ^3^


	3. Get Good

A police siren blares, and the music stops, the singing stops, and people rush in a panic that makes Keith temporarily disoriented. Lance’s grip on his arm is tight, then he’s pushing him away- his fingers are gone and an officer is pulling him back by his too-big shirt.

“That way! Go that way!” Lance shouts and points and Keith doesn’t want to leave him but the crowd pushes them apart. An officer starts in his direction. Keith looks for Lance in the chaos and fails to find him, and the officer is getting closer, not looking friendly in the slightest, so he turns and runs, glancing over his shoulder every few moments until he’s out of the commotion.

 

When he gets home he’s sneaking in, but a lamp flicks on and Pidge peeks her head up over the couch.

“You look shitty.”

“Why aren’t you in your own room?” Keith snaps.

“Wow, moody much. Was school really that bad?” Pidge asks.

“Not really. I missed the van. I had to walk home.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Pidge says, holding her nose for emphasis. Keith sniffs down at his armpit and hopes he didn't smell that bad when he was walking with Lance. “School was alright for me. There aren’t any advanced classes though. I’m gonna ask my dad if I can just get a tutor.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he gets it. She’s too smart (for her own good).

“Where are your books?” Pidge asks.

“Left them at school. I wasn’t about to walk for two hours with hardcovers.” Keith says, making his way towards the bathroom for a nice cool shower. 

“Weak.” Pidge mutters, and Keith breathes deeply, trying to remember the exercises Allura taught him. Her temper was as short as his at times, though, so when Pidge mutters something else under her breath he grabs a decorative pillow and launches it at her without thinking twice. She squawks about her glasses and Shiro yells through the walls for them to pipe down.

 

~

“Keith!” Shiro calls. He’s looking overheated in his formal business attire, but you’d never tell he was uncomfortable by the steady smile on his face. “Where are you headed?”

“Dance hall.” Keith says. He starts walking again once Shiro joins him.

“Do you want to borrow a pair of shorts or something? Didn’t you bring any with you?” Shiro asks. “Sweatpants will be too hot.”

Keith shrugs. He thinks he can get used to the heat, though, if he accepts it as it is. He has to tie his hair up into a short ponytail, but really, it isn’t  _ so _ bad.

“Listen.” Shiro says. “Coran is going to be visiting for a bit!”

“Coran?” Keith says. 

Shiro nods, smiling. “He felt bad for missing the goodbye party. He’s going to be holding guest dance lessons for a while with Allura, so maybe you could help them out.”

“Like, teach?” Keith asks.

“Sure.” Shiro nods. “When you’re free, that is. You can just drop in to help him now and then. It might help you make some connections here.”

Keith scrunches his nose. He wasn’t sure he would be good at teaching. He wasn’t exactly a patient person. Or a  _ people _ person… ‘connections'? Not really his forte.

“Only if you feel like it.” Shiro puts his hand on his shoulder, the usually cool metal of his prosthetic running warm in the heat.

“Okay.” Keith says. “When is he coming?”

“In about a week. He’ll be here for a couple months, at least.” 

“Alright.” Keith says, smiling a little. As odd as Coran was, he always meant well. 

“Okay, well I have to meet with Sam and Matt for a bit.” Shiro says, stopping at the dance hall door. “Remember, patience-”

“Yields focus, yeah.” Keith nods, smiling. “Thanks Shiro.”

 

The dance hall was really more of a room - large and open. The pool and bar were just outside, and there was a breeze from the large open windows. More importantly, though, there was a floor length mirror.

Keith drops his bag and stretches, before sticking his phone into the little docking station he brought down with him, turning up the playlist of latin songs he found through google recommendations. It sounded like what he heard on the streets, and in the pool area late at night, so he figured it was the right stuff to practice with.

He puts his hands on his hips, and moves them in a circle. He frowns.

He sticks out his pelvis, tries to jerk it to the side. He moves his arms back and forth in the way he’d seen Lance moving in the plaza, but he’s embarrassed just watching himself. He frowns some more, and takes up the usual form for the kind of dancing he  _ knows _ . Taking breaks was okay. Just enough to calm his head before trying again. He spins once, the comfort of knowing how he should turn his head and how high his arms should be a welcome stance. He spins again, and sees Lance, standing in the entryway to the outdoor bar.

Keith feels a strange flood of relief through his gut, and he drops his arms. Lance’s cheekbone is purple with a bruise, and a little swollen. He holds up Keith’s book bag to him before setting it down on the floor.

“Those heavy books of yours saved my ass. Police thought I was a student here.”

“I don’t understand.” Keith says. “They were just singing.”

Lance frowns. “Doesn’t matter. That shit happens sometimes. Pigs have it out for anyone.”

Keith matches his frown, eyeing the bruise on his cheek.

“You’re a really shitty dancer.” Lance says.

Keith’s mouth falls open.

Lance shrugs. 

“I’ve never tried dancing like that before.” Keith defends.

“Still shitty though.” Lance says. “But, for a Canadian I suppose you move well.”

Keith isn’t sure if that’s any better a compliment. Lance comes up to him, eyeing the mirror. He touches it with long fingers, contemplative.

“Are you really so self obsessed you need a mirror when you’re dancing?” Lance asks. He fixes his hair. Lance studies Keith’s face through his reflection. “Are mullets fashionable in Canada?”

“It’s so I can memorize the steps.” Keith explains shortly, ignoring the quip about his hair.

“What memorization?” Lance glances back at him. “Just feel the music.”

“But there are routines I have to know.” Keith says. “That’s how you get good.”

“If you want to see real Cuban dancing you should come to one of the clubs on Saturday night.” Lance says, half ignoring his defense. “ León del Arco is where I’ll be, anyways. If you’re interested.”

“León del Arco.” Keith repeats carefully.

“Lion Bow.” Lance says. “It’s meant to be like the rainbow.”

“Rainbow Lion?” Keith asks, grinning.

“Sounds stupid in English.” Lance laughs. “But yeah.”

Keith worries at his lip with his teeth. Saturday night - “Ah. I can’t, though. There’s this…Country Club thing.”

Lance lifts his eyebrows, and he wears the same face he did when Keith was talking about school. “Figures you’d get a date already. Is that why you’re learning Cuban dancing? To impress your date?”

“It’s not a date.” Keith says.

Lance lifts his eyebrows. “Is it the Holt girl? She looks a little young.”

“Her brother invited me, I guess.”

“Hah!” Lance says, pointing at him. “So it  _ is _ a date!”

“It’s not!” Keith flushes. “Our families are going...”

But Lance is already waving his hands. He pats Keith’s shoulder. “They won’t dance like that at a country club, cariño, just learn the foxtrot instead.”

Keith watches his back as he leaves, eyebrows furrowed. “But I already  _ know _ the foxtrot.”

 

~

Keith looks through his closet. He has nice clothes. But everything is plain, and if he’s going to the Country Club, and going to hang out with Matt and his friends, he should at least try to look classy. 

One of the regular maids is in his room as he huffs and sighs over his wardrobe. “Yolanda, is this square?”

“Square?” she asks, eyeing the muted blue dress shirt Keith has paired with his cardigan. “Is square good or bad?”

“Bad.” Keith says.

“Si. This is square.”

Keith groans.

“Ah, ah. No worries.” Yolanda wags her finger at him. “You can wear my boyfriend’s shirt. I’ll show you.”

She takes him by the hand, and he follows her to her room in the staff quarters. She opens her closet and pulls out a deep red dress shirt, crisp and already ironed, golden cufflinks in the sleeves.

Keith shakes his head, “I dunno, I think I’m too big-”

“Ah, ah.” she does the finger wag again. “Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yolanda and her square convo are right from the movie - way too good to pass up :'D


	4. Disunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry all my chapter titles are dumb lol  
> this chapter is a bit longer! ^_^

He still wears a cardigan. 

At least while he’s riding with Pidge, who smugly eyes the red collar.

“I think he looks nice.” Matt says. Keith wonders why the hell these Holt kids wouldn’t ride in their own damn car.

Keith feels a little more at ease when he hears the music, upbeat but familiar, sounding from inside the Palace. Allura waves at him as he follows Matt to his friend’s table, and he resists rolling his eyes lest she come over, too.

“This your date?” Breton asks, nodding at Pidge. Keith wishes he would forget his name again. “She’s a little young.”

Pidge just rolls her eyes and sits down at the table, pulling her phone from a pocket in her dress. Keith sits down next to her, and nervously unbuttons his cardigan, eyes on him, judging his flashy choice of attire. He almost leaves, but Pidge shoots him a glare that tells him not to abandon her with these idiots, either.

“Are you gonna dance?” Matt asks. He’s linked arms with a pretty looking girl; she has soft brown hair and big eyes. “We’re going out there, now.”

“Pidge?” Keith asks. She stares at him blankly. “ _ Please _ .”

“Ugh, fine.” she says, shoving her phone deep into her pocket again. 

Pidge sucks at dancing, but Keith knows enough for the both of them, so he just guides her around the dancefloor as best he can, ignoring the trod of her feet on his toes. At least she’s in sneakers.

“There’s an afterparty in my hotel room.” Breton says, dancing with his date. He sucks, too, and it makes Keith feel a little better. “You guys can come if you want. Even you, kid.”

“Nah.” Pidge deadpans.

“Keith?”

“Um,” Keith knows the answer. No. He’d end up alone and awkward, or worse yet he’d be surrounded by false amiability, which he gets fed up with pretty quickly. “Actually, Pidge is feeling kinda sick, so we’re gonna head back early.”

“I’m no-”

Keith steps on her toe, maybe a little too hard, and catches her shriek in his hand. “We’re gonna head out now.”

“What the hell?” Pidge practically yells at him once they’re off the dancefloor.

“I’m going out.” Keith says, fingertips tingling with the adrenaline of his decision. “The León del Arco. It’s a club. Cover me.”

“Why should I?” Pidge asks, sitting down, rubbing the top of her foot.

“I’ll tell Matt you were the one who dropped your dad’s digital planner in the pool.” Keith says. He has more dirt, but he’s saving it for bigger things. Pidge narrows her eyes.

“Fine.” she says. “Well, you got me out of this bogus evening, too, so thanks, I guess.”

Keith smiles at her, and takes a cab back to the hotel to drop her off.

~

Keith can hear the music from outside the club. He pays the bouncer who eyes him suspiciously, probably for being alone and Not Cuban, but Not White like the majority of the tourists, either, and walks down the narrow steps into the club. It’s hotter inside than out, if that’s possible. There is no dining area, and people are even dancing at the bar, all slick skin shining with sweat, bodies pressed so there’s no space in between. It makes Keith feel embarrassed, but intrigued, too - everyone movement seems steady and sure, but no one is doing the same thing, no one is conscious of whose feet they might be stepping on, or whose body their hands are roaming over...it’s breathtaking. It’s beautiful.

“I knew she wasn’t sick.”

Keith is startled out of his daze by Matt, standing next to him, suit jacket still on despite the stifling press of heat.

“I thought I’d come along. Sorry. Katie told me.”

Keith rolls his eyes. That little  _ asshole _ .

“She’s just worried about you.” Matt says. “Well. We’re here, now! So I’ll get us some drinks.”

Keith scans the crowd, hopeful. Lance had mentioned he’d be here, and a familiar face (besides Matt’s, no offence) would be nice. But he could have changed his plans, who knows. 

It’s not long before he does see him, though- he’s kind of tall and not hard to miss. Keith’s stomach does a little turn; his hips are flush with a girl’s, his hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs as she twists her hips in quick circles, arms around his neck. Keith feels a blush rise on his cheeks when she dips backwards, and Lance’s hand runs down her throat, across her chest - their movements so in sunv it looks like he’s pushing and pulling the breath from her body.

He’s startled from the trance again when Lance’s eyes meet his, and he stands a little straighter, offering a small smile. Lance squeezes the hip of the girl he’s dancing with, and pushes through the crowd.  

“You came!” Lance says, smiling wide, uneven. Keith notices that one of his canines is crooked. He looks boyish and endearing, and the purple of his bruise has almost completely faded into his tan skin.

“Who’s this?” Matt asks, handing Keith a drink. 

“This is Lance.” Keith says. “He works at the hotel.”

“Hi.” Lance says, holding out a hand. “Would you mind if I dance with your date?”

Matt ignores the date comment, save for lifted eyebrows in Keith’s direction. “You’d

have to ask him.”

“Do you wanna dance?” Lance asks, holding his hand out because he knows Keith will take it. He does. Matt looks unimpressed, but keith ignores it.

He tries to move with the bodies, but it’s only Lance who seems to effortlessly slip into the crowd.

“Can we give your boyfriend a show?” Lance asks.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Keith asserts, and Lance just smiles wider.

Keith holds up his arms in proper form, and Lance laughs, shaking his head. He pushes Keith’s arms down gently. He dances easily in front of Keith, and Keith tries to follow, but the steps are too fast, his whole body moves in a way Keith’s has never moved before. He stares at the others moving around him, trying to follow the sensual movements, but the sway of his hips feels awkward even to himself.

His attention is pulled back to Lance, who takes his arms again and places them around his neck. Keith is used to being this close to a dancer. He’s used to noses brushing from time to time, but Lance doesn’t just step into his space, he surrounds him, so much so that when Keith breathes all he can smell is sweat and the club, and it’s not a great smell but sharp hints of Lance’s aftershave find their way into the mix and it almost makes Keith’s head spin.

He jumps at the touch of Lance’s hands, holding him just above his waist. He watches his hips twist just a hair’s breadth from his own, struggling to keep up. Before he gets the slightest hang of things, the song is ending, and a trumpet blares through, announcing the next live performance.

“Back, back.” Lance says, tugging Keith around his waist. He’s sure his shirt is darkened with sweat, and his hair is falling out of it’s tie, but everyone in the club is high on the music, to in tune with it to care.

“They’re the King and Queen of León del Arco.” Lance gestures to the couple dancing. “When they dance, the floor is theirs.”

Keith watches their bodies move, intimate and sensual, and his breath catches - “Beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Lance nods, watching them, too. “C’mon, I saw my buddies crowding your boyfriend. We should save him.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Keith says again, but Lance glances behind him a winks, with his tongue stuck out between his teeth, and he knows he’s teasing, now.

“Are these your friends?” Matt asks, looking incredibly relieved at their arrival.

Lance nods, grinning. “These are my brothers: Carlos, and Miguel. This is my best friend, Hunk.”

Keith eyes the guy named “Hunk” - he’s huge, and Keith can practically feel his strength just by standing next to him. But he turns to smile at him, and friendliness practically oozes out of his grin. He eyes Matt, wondering why the hell he looks so perturbed. 

“We were just talking politics.” Matt says.

“Oh yeah?” Lance says, looking up at his oldest brother (Keith judges by the fine lines near his eyes). “Carlos loves talking.” 

“More than you?” Keith can’t help but blurt out.  _ Great _ first impressions, and all that.

Lance pauses, then laughs, clapping him on the shoulder, and Hunks guffaw turns heads. “That’s debatable.” Keith’s cheeks hum red. 

“Keith, we have to go.” Matt says. “We’re being missed.”

Keith frowns, confused. The way he’s talking makes him feel disdainful. “I’m staying.”

Matt looks at him, matching his scowl. “If we’re found missing, we’ll both be in shit. You especially, you have university funds riding solely on your, quite frankly, poor, behaviour.”

Keith breaths deeply. He lets his chest rise and fall and he thinks of Shiro and Allura and Coran and all the people who worked so hard to help him get to where he is; the people he works so hard for to show his gratitude. “Fine.”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Lance calls out as Matt pushes through the crowd, Keith grudgingly following behind. Lance doesn’t look happy when he glances back his way.

Keith just nods a little, only half meeting his eyes. He follows Matt outside, to his parked car.

“Oh what, are you going to brood about this, too?” Matt asks. “You literally have your life handed to you on a silver platter and you’re gonna risk fucking it up by hanging out in place like that?”

“How would that fuck it up?” Keith says, trying very, very hard not to yell. He’s not sure if he’s succeeding. Blood rushes and receded in swells behind his eyes, his head pounding from the loud music.

“Being associated with Kerberos means you have a  _ reputation _ to uphold, Keith. I’m part of that company, too. I can’t have you ruining our image by association, I’m sorry.” Matt says.

Keith understands. He does. But,  _ but _ , “That’s not what I want.”

Matt looks at him, hand resting still on the ignition. “Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

Keith fumes. He can practically feel the steam whistling from his ears. “I didn’t  _ ask _ for anything to happen. It just  _ did _ .”

“It doesn’t mean you have to be ungrateful!” Matt yells, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration. “You’re smart but you waste it, you never socialize with the rest of us when it’s called for -” Matt reaches forward as he speaks, yanking on the collar of Keith’s shirt, pulling the buttons open- Keith hears one pop off, and his blood boils red because it’s not even  _ his _ shirt- “and you won’t even wear the clothes my dad and Shiro work so hard for to put on your back!”

Keith grabs Matt’s wrist, holding fast, disbelief making his vision swim. “I am  _ not _ ungrateful,” Keith bites on every word. He slowly lets go of Matt’s wrist. He opens the car door and slams it with every ounce, every goddamn drip of anger in his body.

“Keith!” Matt calls after him. Keith hears him get out of the car, but he’s not listening. “Keith, get it the damn car. Fuck. Keith!”

 

~

 

Keith does not get in the damn car. He goes back into the club and looks for Lance, who smiles upon seeing him but his expression turns serious when he takes in Keith’s seething disarray.

“What’d he do to you?” Lance asks, eyes hard. He takes them aside, dipping his face close to Keith’s to talk to him without having to shout.

“Just. Something stupid.” Keith says, after collecting himself a little. “Shiro works for his dad; you know that. Just. Let it go, it’s easier.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Lance says. He takes Keith by the wrist, his grip so tight it almost hurts, but it softens with every step into the fresh air.

They walk in silence. Keith’s ears have stopped thrumming, but they ring now, which is almost worse. He needs to think clearly. He was always a little impulsive, sure. But he was always sure of what he was capable of, too. However, the more time he spent under the looming future the Holts had planned for him, and the weight of Shiro and Allura’s love… the more his capability seemed to slip away - he felt too dependant, too indebted. But to say what he said to Matt, to say that it wasn’t what he wanted - that was selfish, wasn’t it? 

Keith glances at Lance, who’s walking with his hands deep in his pockets and his eyes cast towards the stars. The stars he wants to study, but can’t.

Definitely selfish.

A feeling manifests itself deep in his gut. It spreads and twists around his heart, and Keith feels helpless because he can’t help wanting what he wants. 

Guilt.

“This is as far as I go.” Lance says, stopping. He smiles, completely oblivious to the raw feeling ripping up Keith’s insides. 

Keith looks at the hotel and frowns.

“Staff aren’t supposed to fraternize with the guests.” Lance explains, shrugging.

“You can get in trouble just for walking me up there?” Keith says, bitter. He wants so,  _ so _ badly to tell Lance that he isn’t like them - but he’s living the easy life, as hard as he’s making it for himself. He clicks his tongue. “It’s so stupid.”

Lance shrugs. “Yeah.”

Keith, for some reason, still doesn’t move. Lance smiles at him, soft, and Keith’s heart catches in his throat, with a stupid thought about  _ This is where he’s supposed to kiss me _ , but he’s blindsided by Lance holding out his hand.

Keith takes it, laughing shortly. Lance pulls him forward a little, and Keith’s heart jumps again when his fingers brush his chest, re-buttoning his shirt as best he can. 

“You look good in red.” Lance says, almost a murmur. “It suits you.”

“Thanks.” Keith says.

The third button from his collar is missing, though, and he’s reminded of the old graduation stories about giving away the button closest to your heart. Keith touches the emptiness, and forces a smile onto his face.

He danced a little better. He admitted out loud that despite the graciousness of those around him, he wanted something else - even if he didn’t know what that was, yet (guilty feelings aside). He can still feel the ghost of Lance’s hands on his waist, his wrist, fingertips on his chest- “The evening wasn’t all bad.” Keith says, honestly. 

Honesty and Guilt. They weren’t opposite emotions, but they weren’t harmonious, either. They weren’t stable. But Keith isn’t reminded of the pain of moving from foster home to foster home, the lack of friendship and understanding from his mentors that such an unsteady start to life offered him. He feels as though this kind of disunity is a part of growth, and he starts to understand a little more about what Allura meant by this “being good for him”. 

Lance waves until Keith is out of sight. He thinks absently that he’ll find a replacement shirt for Yolanda’s boyfriend as he climbs the stairs to their floor. Pidge is asleep on the couch when he goes in. He turns the fan towards her a little more, before he sneaks into his room, dropping onto his bed without bothering to undress.


	5. Amateur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REALLY long chapter omg :'D

Keith walks into the dance studio with a purpose, mind fresh with the images of movement from the club. All that falls away when he sees an orange moustache running at him, crashing into him, hugging him so hard Keith think his bones will crush under the iron grip.

“Hey, Coran.” Keith smiles. He must be setting up for his guest classes.

“You’ve grown so much!” Coran blubbers, and Keith doesn’t mention it  _ really _ hasn’t been  _ that _ long. “Look at you, my boy! How is Cuba treating you? Still white as a sheet, I see!”

Keith is pretty sure that’s not how that expression is meant to be used, but Coran was always getting things almost-right. “It’s nice.”

“Nice, nice, yes I see.” Coran says, still wiping tears from his eyes. “You’re still practicing dancing?”

“Yes, Coran.” Keith half laughs.

“You just feel a world away, my boy!” Coran says, patting his shoulder. “Listen, while you’re here, you should take a look at this.”

He produces a flier in front of him. It’s pale yellow, bordered in baby pink, with the words  _ Amateur Dance Contest _ scrawled across the top. “I think a goal would be good for you!”

Coran knows him well. Too well. But-

“I don’t know if I’m good enough to compete. I don’t know Latin ballroom very well.” Keith says, eyeing the flier. “And I’d need a partner.”

“Pidge tells me you’ve been practicing with a boy who works here, though?” Coran says.

The paper crumples a little in Keith’s grip as he curses. “That little  _ gremlin _ .”

“Now, now.” Coran says, gently  placing a hand over his. He pulls Keith’s arms up into form, testing the bounce of his elbow. “It’s just an idea. You can either run with it, or you can keep dancing a solo dance for a dance meant for two. Up to you.”

Keith frowns. He hates it when Coran talks like that. Half in riddles, or something. 

Coran spins Keith once, then twice, and Keith is proud in his execution. “Don’t tell Shiro or Allura. Please.”

Coran nods, and doesn’t ask why.

Allura soon joins them, and Keith watches the first dance class, helping out now and then demonstrating steps as Coran’s partner while Allura points out the formation and style. Coran is completely in his element. He wonders why he ever gave up dancing- why he decided to host a group home instead. He’d never asked before. He’s almost afraid to, though, with the way Coran’s stories tended to last for about ten thousand years.

“Think about it.” Coran says, nodding to the fliers stacked on a table near the door, as Keith is trying to slip out unnoticed. 

He hesitates, but takes a flier with him.

 

~

 

Keith avoids Matt’s stare as he walks past him at the pool.

“He’s not here.”

“What?” Keith says disdainfully. He wonders if Matt is just riling him up. He’s bitter that whatever balance they had was shattered.

“He got fired. Breton saw you guys last night.” 

_ No _ . Keith pushes past Matt, wishing he’d done it with a little more force so he’d fall into the pool, but there was no time to rectify that matter.

Keith hates to do it, but he uses his position to weasel Lance’s contact information from his (former) manager, and he sets into the Varadero streets with an address scrawled on a napkin.

 

The house he stands in front of is like every other on the street: colourful, plants everywhere, loved but a little unkempt, with the telltale wear of the weather. He’s standing in front of the wrought iron gate, wondering if he’s supposed to knock or call out, when a little girl runs by, Keith catching her eye.

“Um. Suárez?” Keith tries. “Casa Suárez?”

The girl giggles at him and nods, her pigtails bouncing.

He points at himself. “Amigo. Lance.”

She nods, and opens the gate to him, just as a lady opens the door.

“Hola.” Keith says. “Um, I’m a friend of Lance’s, from the hotel. Have you seen him?”

Her eyebrows are furrowed together, and she must be Lance’s mom because her eyes are the same startling deep blue. She’s about to speak when the door behind her opens a little more, and Lance’s friend from the club steps out. Hunk.

“You didn’t see him at the hotel?” She looks worried.

“Ah!” Hunk says, then says something to her in Spanish. He gestures for the little girl to go inside with her ‘abeulita’, and Keith finds a heavy arm thrown over his shoulders, steering him away.

“She doesn’t know he got fired.” Hunk says. “Because of you, may I add.”

Keith swallows. He knows. “Where is he? I have a way he can make some money.”

Hunk eyes him up and down, but nods his head for him to follow.

 

~

The sound of clanking metal fills Keith’s ears, and people brush past him carrying car parts high upon their shoulders. Garage.

“Is this where he works now?” Keith asks.

Hunk looks back at him. “He always worked here. The hotel was just his first job.” 

Keith bites his lip. He’d been more ignorant than he thought.

“I work here, and at the Palace. I’m one of the chefs.” Hunk explains, before claling out to Lance. “Lance! Someone’s here to see you!”

Keith spots him, bent over into the hood of a car, overalls tied around his waist. He turns around. Keith notices the double take when he sees him standing there. He has grease smudged on his face, so much that Keith can barely make out the freckles under the grime. He looks like he’s standing behind a grainy filter. Even his eyes are dark.

“I’m sorry.” Keith blurts.

“Not your fault.” Lance mutters. “I was being careless.”

“I have a way you can get some money.” Keith says, holding out the flier as he steps closer. Lance glances at it.

“It’s open for everyone. But you have to be my partner.”

Laugh laughs, and it’s not fun or musical like all the other times Keith has heard it. “What? Dance with  _ you _ ?”

“Oh come on.” Keith says. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Lance looks him over, and Keith feels suddenly self conscious. He tugs at the sleeves of his cardigan. Maybe argyle was a bad decision, today. Lance turns around, and keeps working. 

“You dance well.  _ Really  _ well.”

Lance shrugs.

“Don’t tell me  _ you’re _ saying no to a competition.” Keith pushes. He can practically feel the competitive nature radiating from him, most of the time. Now, though, he can’t feel anything.

“Semi finals is three hundred dollars.” Keith says. “American.”

Lance turns a little.

“The grand prize is five thousand. The winners get a free trip, to anywhere in the world. Or they can walk with the added cash.”

Lance ignores him again, and Keith reminds himself to be patient - he got him fired, after all. He’s allowed to be upset about that. He rests the paper on top of a work bench, and walks away. 

 

~

 

Keith shoulders his book bag, leaving school early for once. Ever since his outburst with Matt, his mind was less and less on his studies. Walking down the school steps, he sees a tall boy kicking his feet in the dirt, hands shrugged into the pockets of his jeans. His shirt hangs loose on his shoulders. Lance.

Keith meets him at the gate.

“This contest…” Lance starts. He sounds embarrassed. “Does it cost money?”

Keith can’t help but smile. “No.”

“It’s not my kind of dancing. It’s...it’s not what I do.” Lance says.

“It’s  _ latin  _ ballroom.” Keith says. “That part  _ is _ you.”

Lance laughs.

“If we mix what you have and what I have, I really think we’d have something.” Keith says, and Lance seems flustered, making Keith flustered, in turn.

“I’d still have to teach you everything.” Lance says.

Keith clicks his tongue. “Not everything. I have to teach you, too.”

“Sure, sure.” Lance says, and Keith catches him rolling his eyes.

“Hey. If we want to win, we have to work as a  _ team _ .” Keith says, pointing at him. “And I don’t like losing.”

“Good.” Lance says. “Because neither do I.”

~

Lance knows the bartender, so they practice at the club-  León del Arco looks a lot different during the daytime. It’s much bigger than Keith originally thought. The lighting is a little poor, and there aren’t any mirrors to watch his steps in, but Keith doesn’t complain - it’s not like they can use the dance hall at the hotel. He hates sneaking around, but he told Matt that he had leverage on him from Pidge (a lie, but honestly who  _ doesn’t _ Pidge have dirt on) so he’s covering for him.

Keith hits play on his docking station, and steps into form. Lance somewhat knows that basic, at least. They had a couple  _ months _ to practice, so it would be an easy fix. He stops when Lance’s arms leave his sides to do a little wiggle thing in the air. He stares at him blankly, keeping his temper.

“What. Are you doing.”

Lance matches his expression. “Dancing? What the fuck does it look like?”

“This is a  _ routine _ .” Keith says. He maybe hits the music off with a little too much force. “There is a form you need to perfect, and steps you need to memorize.” He picks up a little sheet he had scrawled steps and notes on and waves it at Lance - he thought they were clear on this, but Lance’s arms are crossed and he’s rolling his eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

Lance nods, and turns on the music again, keeping Keith’s gaze. “Yes.  _ First _ .  _ You _ learn to move.  _ Then _ we worry about the list with words.”

Keith is about to refuse on impulse - maybe there was just something freeing about bickering now and then with Lance, a freedom that was even stilted when it came to Pidge - but he has a point. Being able to move like Lance _ does _ seem like the very beginning of learning how to dance the way they need to to win. So he shrugs. “Okay, fine.”

Lance flashes a wide grin, and bounces back onto the dancefloor. Keith’s mood lightens again considerably, just due to Lance’s contagious smile. He calms the flutter in his heart, and stares at him steadily, waiting for instruction. Lance’s arms are outstretched a little, and he pauses, staring at Keith’s pelvis with his eyebrows drawn together.

Keith feels suddenly self conscious, but then Lance speaks.

“Uh, how do you call this?” he asks, pointing at his own hips.

Keith grins. “Your hips?”

Lance laughs, saying he should have known, “Move your  _ hips _ .” his lips purse on the  _ p _ , making the whole word sound soft. “C’mon, move them in a circle!”

Keith moves them in a circle.

“That’s a box.”

Keith glares at him. He tries again, and Lance is shaking his head, but he’s not impatient. “No, no.”

He presses his fingers against Keith’s waist. “From here down, you have to move in a circle. You’re too stiff. Try again.”

  
  


“Your frame is really weak.” Keith says. Lance’s jaw drops. Keith shrugs.

“You’re so rude.” Lance shakes his head in mock offence.

“Listen.” Keith says. “You suck at this, and I suck at what you do. So let me show you how to get better.”

Lance doesn’t look like he wants to listen, but he does, and stands a little taller. It doesn’t stop him from complaining, though. “You could fit another couple in between us.”

“It’s not going to be a crowded place.” Keith says. 

“But to dance like we want to, you’re going to have to get used to me being in your personal space.” Lance says.

Keith flushes, and is reminded of the night before, where Allura sat down, fidgeting and awkward on the couch.

 

“Keith, darling?”

Keith knew something was up. He glances at Allura from the corner of his eye, not closing his book. She sits down next to him with her hands tucked under her knees.

“So, Shiro and I have noticed that Matt mentions you two hanging out a lot.” Allura starts, smiling. “And we thought it would be better for me to do this than him… You know, when you start to get to know someone…”

Keith snaps his eyes forward. This was  _ not _ happening. He feels the tips of his ears start to turn red.

“You might get… certain  _ feelings _ … that you aren’t used to having.” Keith wishes for death. “And when it comes to...the safety, of these feelings… preparation and patience are important. And don’t feel… pressured...”

Keith wants to wipe the heat from his face.

“Do you, maybe, understand what I’m getting at?” she asks, leaning forward a little. He nods once, curtly, hearing her  _ “Oh thank god _ ” then darts towards his room to  _ not _ think about how his older sister/guardian just gave him The (Gay) Talk, as delicate as it was.

 

~

 

It’s night, this time, when they’re in the club. The music is louder, and they’re crowded together, no excuse for Keith to put space between them while they dance.

“Just close your eyes.” Lance says, sounding desperate now.

“Why.” Keith says, and maybe it’s just to be a little difficult.

“Just do it.” Lance groans.

Keith listens, and jumps at the first touch of hands on his hips. 

“Maybe if you don’t look, it’ll be easier?” Lance suggests, trying to guide his hips in the godforsaken circle. Currently, it’s Keith’s least favourite shape. “At least for now.”

Keith is only hyper-aware, though, of how Lance’s fingers brush his ass unintentionally as he tries to get him to move. He pushes away when he can feel Lance’s leg between his thighs, starting to dance with him.

“This isn’t working.” Keith says, heart pounding.

“Why are you so afraid?” Lance clicks his tongue. “Why are you holding back so much? I thought you wanted to win.”

“I’m not afraid!” Keith says, voice raising.

“You are!” Lance says, snapping his fingers in front of him as he speaks. “We aren’t getting anywhere. When you’re ready to say you’re afraid, you let me know.”

Keith doesn’t say goodbye to him when he leaves.

~

 

Keith is hoping that Allura and Coran aren’t in the dance hall when he goes, but he’s not as disappointed as he thought he would be when he sees an orange moustache. 

“How is your dancing coming along?” Coran asks cheerily.

“Fine.” Keith nods. It sounds so horrible, so fake, that he doesn’t even wait for Coran to mention it before he corrects himself. “Not fine.”

Coran smiles softly. “What seems to be the issue?”

Keith wants to pull his hair out, when he thinks about it. “He thinks we should be dancing one way, and I another. He picks up on the steps quickly, but then just goes and does whatever the hell it is that he wants to, and he keeps saying ‘ _ Move your heeps, move your heeps!’  _ Keith mimics his adorable accent and buries his face in his hands with a groan. “I am moving them!”

Coran waits patiently for him to finish, and Keith is bitterly reminded of the counseling days he had to endure, feeling guilty once again about making Coran sit through hours of silence before he would speak. But he’s speaking now. He’s improved.

“He’s just so… up in my space.” Keith shrugs. “I know it’s the point of the dance we want to achieve, but it’s -”

“Scary?” Coran offers. The word sounds childish, but it fits, so Keith nods.

“I’m doing this for him because I got him fired, and now I can’t even follow through properly. I can’t tell Allura and Shiro because they’ll worry about me being off on my own, and if the Holt’s find out I’ll “ruin their image” or whatever.  _ Then _ everyone will be disappointed in me-”

“Keith.” Coran says, hand on his arm. “It’s okay to want things, you know.”

Keith frowns. It doesn’t  _ feel _ okay.

“Trust me, Shiro and Allura aren’t going to be disappointed in you for saying you want something. Or don’t want something. They know you love them.”

Keith tries to let Coran’s words sink in. It was odd, hearing his insecurities voiced by someone else. “I’d still rather do this contest without them knowing, if it’s possible. Just in case it  _ does _ mess with Mr. Holt’s image. In case he  _ thinks _ it will mess with it, even. It won’t look like I’m focusing on my studies if I’m entering an amateur contest, you know. He cares about presentation, and I don’t want him to think I’m ungrateful. He’s nice and all, but he’s still not...” Keith trails off.

“I understand.” Coran nods. “I think you’d be surprised, but it’s up to you.”

Keith appreciates that. “So. What can I do to win?”

Coran sighs. “I know… I know it’s frightening to admit that you’re scared. Especially to the person that’s making you so nervous. I know it’s scary to let someone touch that part of you-”

Keith’s face reddens - what was he talking about now? Did Allura mention their  _ talk _ with him? Was Coran talking about his dick? 

“-but once you let that person in -”

Keith wants to melt into the floor, good  _ fucking _ Lord-

“You look a little flushed, my boy, are you okay?”

“You’re talking about  _ that _ , of course I’m…” Keith shuts his mouth at the confusion on Coran’s face.

“I’m talking about exposing-”

“See!” Keith says.

“Your  _ feelings _ , Keith! Get your mind out of the gutter.” Coran  _ tsks  _ him, and Keith’s embarrassment doubles. “However, if  _ that’s _ how you feel about Lance, then it might help your dancing. After all, the sensual movements basically mimic- ”

“Thanks, Coran.” Keith says, finished with this conversation about five minutes ago. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anytime, my boy!” Coran grins. “Be safe!”

Keith makes a sound in his throat that could be considered agreement, and leaves the dance hall.

 

~

 

Lance is there when he finishes school, instead of meeting at the  León del Arco as usual. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking excited. He has a bag tucked under one of his arms.

“What?” Keith says. As far as he knew, they weren’t on the best terms right now.

“Not even a  _ Hola, Lance, you look nice today _ ?” Lance asks, smiling wide, bumping into his shoulder. “Sorry for the other night. I can’t expect you to catch on right away. Not everyone is as great as me.”

Keith snorts, looking at Lance with disbelief, but his confidence doesn’t deplete. They walk in silence for a bit, in the opposite direction of the hotel. Keith bites his lip between his teeth, and tightens the short ponytail at the base of his neck. “I admit it.”

“What?” Lance says.

“That I’m scared.” Keith says. “Sometimes I think too much about the consequences of things, then other times I don’t think about them enough. Sorry I got you in shit.”

Lance shrugs. “Everyone’s a little bit like that. It’s okay. Anyways, I had a great idea. We’re going to the beach.”

“Now?” Keith asks, Was that it? Lance was just going to move on? Accept his shitty apology? But Lance is already pulling him along, his hand around his wrist, until he loosely links their arms.

“I have to show you something.”

“Okay.” Keith says, and he lets Lance guide him. “I can’t swim.”

Lance laughs at him, but Keith can’t find it in him to be offended, not when that smile is so earnestly directed at him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Keith’s heart flutters desperately.

They reach the beach, and Lance keeps walking along it, holding onto Keith’s hand as he climbs up over the rocks, despite both of them capable in their balance. There’s a cove that’s less crowded, and Keith averts his eyes from Lance’s back when he starts to pull of his shirt.

He’s tugging at his belt when he tells Keith to “Strip, we’re getting in the water.”

Keith turns his back to Lance as he unbuttons his school uniform, letting it fall to the sand, ignoring Lance’s snort.

“I don’t have sunblock.” Keith says, suddenly. He turns around, catching Lance kicking his jeans off his feet, briefs snug across his barely-there bum. It still makes him blush, though.

“I thought of that.” Lance says. “There’s sunblock in the bag.”

Keith strips to his boxers, not meeting Lance’s eye as he searches the bag for sunblock. He finds the bottle, and starts to spread it over his arms.

“I’ll get your back.” Lance says, and before Keith can protest, Lance is taking the bottle from his hands. Keith tenses as Lance rubs the sunblock into his skin, and jumps when he slaps his ass before running into the water.

“It’s waterproof, c’mon Keith! We’re dancing!”

Keith walks into the warm water, watching it push the sand over his toes, “What’s the point of dancing in the water?”

Lance stands behind him. He puts his hands on his hips, and water trickles into the dip of Keith’s back. “Your movement has to be fluid, just like the waves.”

Keith watches the water roll, focuses on the swell, and lets Lance guide his hips with as little concentration as possible. Lance moves his hands from guiding him to barely there as Keith slowly finds his rhythm.

“That’s so much better.” Lance says. His breath tickles behind Keith’s ear. “I’m such a good teacher.”

Keith laughs. “You’re so full of it. I’m a better teacher anyways, it took you how long? To get me to do this right?”

Lance just shrugs. “I’m just a better student, too.”

Keith bumps into him purposely, making him fall into the sea, but not before Lance pulls him down, too. Keith coughs the salt water from his lungs, blinks it from his eyes. The tide ebbs up around him as he blinks the world into focus again, but instead of the sunset hues of the beach he sees the deep night sky, all in Lance’s eyes.

Lance brushes his wet hair from his forehead, leaning over Keith. There’s sand stuck to his cheek. Drops of water are caught in his dark eyelashes, and Keith’s heart swells with the water when Lance kisses him, all salt water and warmth.

Keith puts his arms around his neck and pulls him close against his chest, kissing him back, breathless. His lips give and fit easily between his own, and he can feel Lance’s pleased hum through his whole body. He parts when a wave crashes up over them, splashing into his ears, and his eyes, still on Lance’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u3u


	6. We Make a Good Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> B)

Lance holds Keith’s hand as he walks him back to the hotel.

“I’m not going to University.” Keith says, suddenly.

Lance lifts an eyebrow at him, and doesn’t say anything.

“Not because of you, dumbass.” Keith says, knocking his shoulder against him.  “Just. I’m not going. It’s not what I want.”

Lance just nods.

“Maybe you could go, though. With the prize money. It’s a start, at least. It’d be a good push, right?” Keith offers.

“Maybe.” Lance says, sounding like he’s humoring him completely. “I’d give it to my mamá, though.”

“Oh.” Keith nods.

“Stop it.”

“What?” Keith asks, studying him out of the corner of his eye.

“Feeling guilty about not going to school.” Lance grumbles. “If it’s not making you happy then it’s not worth it, right?”

“Right.” Keith says. He still feels bad, but Lance telling him that makes his shoulders feel a little lighter. 

“My dad died when I was young.” Lance says. “Cops.” is his only explanation.

Keith squeezes his hand a little.

“He told me to make it out of here, and don’t get me wrong! he really loved Cuba. There’s no place on earth like Varadero Beach. He just wanted a better life for us. But if I ever left, I’d miss it a lot. I’d  _ manage _ . I could  _ deal with it.  _ But I think I’m happiest here.”

Keith lets it sink in.

“So… even if Mr. Holt, or whoever it is, means well for you, it’s still  _ you _ who has to figure that stuff out on your own, right? Even if it feels a little selfish. That’s not always a bad thing.” Lance says, slowing down as they reach the gate of the hotel.

“Thanks.” Keith says, honestly. “Um, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I have something to show you, too.”

Lance wiggles his eyebrows, and Keith clicks his tongue turning his face away. But he lets Lance put his hands on his face, cupping his cheeks to pull him into a kiss that makes his toes curl. He kisses his forehead, too, before he leaves, and Keith brushes his fingers against his lips as he sneaks into the hotel.

  
  


“Gross.” Pidge says, when Keith comes out for breakfast.

“Why are you here again?” Keith asks, sitting down next to her.

“I like Allura.” Pidge says. “My mom makes me eat kiwi. Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” Keith asks, pouring fresh juice into his glass.

“Happy.”

Keith stares at her, and can’t help the blush creep onto his skin. She narrows her eyes. “It’s that pool boy, isn’t it?”

Keith shakes his head, and focuses on the breakfast spread before him.

“As long as it’s not my brother.” Pidge says.

Keith frowns. “Has he said anything to you?”

“Depends.” Pidge shrugs. Keith sighs. “Fine, fine, gross happy Keith is better than broody emo Keith. God. No he didn’t say anything. Nothing I didn’t already know. He’s kinda miffed at you though, I don’t know what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Keith grumbles.

“He’s probably just jealous.” Pidge says.

“Jealous?” Keith asks, but Mrs. Holt is frantically calling for Pidge from the hallway, and Pidge is chugging the last of her juice.

 

In school, Keith hardly pays attention. He finds himself shaking his hips a little when he washes his hands in the bathroom, his thoughts drifting to Lance, then eventually to Pidge’s cryptic words this morning.

Jealous?

Keith looks at his reflection in the mirror, and suddenly realizes. Mr. Holt, and Shiro, who Matt knew long before they knew Keith even  _ existed, _ were planning and supporting Keith’s future - who had no right, no relation, not  _ reason _ to deserve any of it. It wasn’t as though Matt was ignored in favour of Keith, but between him and Pidge, certified Genius, Keith could see the sharp thorns of jealousy Matt tried to ignore. But for Keith to look all his good fortune in the face and tell Matt he doesn’t even  _ want _ it…

Keith understands. It doesn’t change how he feels, and he’ll still eventually have to break the news to them about his aimless decisions, but he understands.

 

~

 

Keith has his projector and his music in a bag when he reaches Hunk’s garage, late in the evening. There’s no noise coming from inside, besides Lance’s quiet shuffling.

“Is this good enough?” Lance asks when he sees him, hands still on the dirty white sheet he’s hung up.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” Keith says. Lance watches him as he sets up the projector, and the clicking of the old film brightens the room.

“What’s this?” Lance asks, crooked grin on his lips. His hands are resting on his hips, and he studies the black and white.

“They’re my parents.” Keith says. “I um. I never knew them. They both died when I was young, so I don’t remember anything, really. I have this, though. Even if they’re strangers, it’s comforting, sometimes.”

Lance nods, studying the grainy silence in front of him. “They’re really good.”

Keith nods.

“You see how they’re looking at each other?” Lance points. “It’s like they can’t turn away. You can see the pull between them. The bond. That’s the kind of dancing that wins a competition.”

Keith flushes, nodding again.

Lance moves behind the sheet, and Keith follows. He’s fooling around with an old record player - Keith’s only ever seen them in pictures, so he watches curiously as Lance sets the needle. There’s a short scratch, then the music starts. 

Lance holds out his arms in his newly practiced form, lights dancing over his face from behind the makeshift screen. “Not long now, mi amor. Do you think we can win?”

Keith steps into his arms. “I know we will.”

Keith doesn’t jump when he feels Lance’s hands on him, this time. He knows how he’s supposed to move his hips, he lets his body ripple with every step. Lance dips him back and his hand runs down Keith’s chest, pulling open the buttons of his shirt. He spins him quickly, and when he stills his body is flush against him, noses brushing, before they pull back again.

He feels Lance’s lips on his neck, hot breath adding to the already humid air, making Keith sweat. Lance’s latin ballroom dancing turns club, but Keith doesn’t complain at the grind of their hips, and gives under Lance’s pull. He maybe lets out a little gasp when Lance’s strong fingers grip at the back of his thigh, dragging up to dig into his ass.

A dip of heat finds it’s way down Keith’s stomach, and he slows his dancing when Lance starts to untuck his shirt. He leans against a workbench, and pulls Keith into his space.

“Should I stop?”Lance asks. Keith shakes his head. Lance shifts a leg between his thighs. “Are you nervous?”

Keith shrugs. Maybe a little. He’s never been in any kind of relationship, but he guesses the opportunity has never really come up, either. He likes the feeling of Lance’s slim leg pushing up between his own, and grinds down onto him in soft movements. He’s more nervous about feeling with his heart than with his dick. He’s supposed to be moving for college, but he doesn’t want to. He has to tell Shiro and Allura and Mr. Holt, but he doesn’t want to, even if has to. What he  _ wants _ is to figure out what he wants. What he  _ wants _ , right now, is for Lance to start kissing him again.

Keith curls his fingers into the damp hair at the base of Lance’s neck and pulls him closer. He sighs into Lance’s mouth when Lance shoves his hands down his pants, bony fingers squeezing his ass. Keith is irritatingly hard in his pants, but the friction against Lance’s hips is good, too. 

He groans in annoyance when Lance pushes him back a bit, but Lance is just laughing softly, working his fingers on the button of Keith’s jeans.

He kisses Keith, tongue on his lips, coaxing them open then tracing his teeth when he palms Keith through his underwear, soon slipping his fingers under the waistband and around his cock. Keith gasps at the first touch of skin on skin, and he feels precum start to leak. His legs shudder as he clenches around Lance’s thigh, and he keeps his arms wrapped around his neck. He thrusts his hips up into Lance’s grip, and then, oh, his thumb drags down the underside of his cock, and he lets slip a moan against Lance’s mouth. He can feel himself blush so he keeps kissing him, eyes closed, breathing in the scent of sweat and whatever aftershave Lance uses. Lance groans and the sound makes Keith’s stomach flutter, he pulls back, all short breaths as the pressure builds and his legs tremble. He feels Lance grind his hips upward and when his fingers shiver over the head of his cock again he comes with a quiet moan, shaking around Lance’s leg, sweat dripping down his neck. 

He blinks slowly, slumping a little against Lance’s lean body as he comes down from his high. Lance’s pupils are blown wide, and his hand is still on his dick.

“Me vuelves loco.” Lance says, all in a jumbled breath.

“What?” Keith says, pulling back, but Lance is shaking his head.

“Nothing, nothing.” He says. He glances down, and Keith sees his thick eyelashes fan out over his cheeks. He could almost count the freckles on his skin, if he had the time. He wipes his hand covered in Keith’s cum in a rag on the workbench behind him.

“Ah-” Keith feels Lance’s dick, pressing hard against his thigh. “You-”

“Thanks for remembering.” Lance says, laughing a little.

“Sorry.” Keith says, staring at the obvious bulge of Lance’s jeans. He flicks his eyes between Lance’s pants and his eyes. He knits his eyebrows together in concentration as he unbuttons Lance’s jeans.

“Straight to the goods, huh?” Lance says. Keith scowls. Lance lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright…”

Keith palms the heavy heat of Lance’s cock through his briefs, and doesn’t miss the hitch in Lance’s throat. He loosely pumps Lance’s shaft through his underwear, palm brushing over the damp spot forming. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to be doing with his other hand, so he lets it join in, loosening the zipper of Lance’s jeans and testing the weight of his balls. He’s long and curved in his hand, and Keith notices with a glance that his fingers are gripping tight on the bench behind him.

“What do you like?” Keith asks, his voice rough to his own ears.

Lance’s breathing stutters, and so do his hips. “A little tighter. Faster.”

Keith pulls him out of his underwear, and suddenly Lance’s fingers grab under his chin, lifting it to meet his eyes. “Stop staring so hard.”

Keith feels the tips of his ears redden, and he scowls.

“Kiss me.” Lance says, already leaning in. So Keith does. He lets Lance lead the way, lets him fuck up into his hand, because it’s hard to concentrate on what his tongue is supposed to be doing and what he’s supposed to be doing with Lance’s dick, all while listening to Lance’s noisy breathing. His dick twitches at the rough grip of Lance’s hand on his arm. Lance nibbles on Keith’s lip, sucking it into his mouth, and Keith groans a little at the feeling it sends to his sensitive cock. Lance’s hands roam around his waist, down to his ass, where he grips his fingers tight again, and rocks his hips into Keith’s hand. Keith watches his face, brows upturned and mouth slack, a bead of sweat dripping down from his temple when he comes with a moan that sends shivers through Keith’s skin.

Lance sighs and slackens his grip, rubbing soft circles  into Keith’s sides, hands tucked under his shirt. He hums, happy, and kisses Keith’s neck chastely, then his jaw, and his mouth. “Mm. Me vuelves loco.”

Keith worries the bottom of his lip. It feels a little swollen between his teeth. “Yo...tambien?” Whatever he’s agreeing to, it sounds nice.

Lance pauses, then laughs. He tucks himself back into his pants, and throws Keith a rag. Lance catches his eye, a playful glint in the shining blue as he rattles on in Spanish, and Keith doesn’t have a clue what he’s saying but he turns red anyways, small smile lifting his mouth. 

“Shut up for once.” Keith says, bumping Lance’s shoulder. 

Lance looks him up and down, smiling wide. “Let’s get you home. And cleaned up.”

Keith glances down at his shirt, grimacing at the drying cum. He didn’t catch Lance very well.

“Here.” Lance says. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, and hands it to Keith. “C’mon, take it.”

Keith tries not to stare too much at Lance’s brown stomach, and pants riding low on his hips. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. He puts on Lance’s t-shirt. It’s a little too big on him, too, but he can at least fill out the chest a little.

Lance helps him with the projector and the tape, and he holds his hand as he walks him back to the hotel.

“Do you really,  _ really  _ think we can win?” Lance asks again as they near the gate.

Keith nods. “I think we have a good chance.”

“I hope so.”

Keith feels nervousness bubble up inside him - different from whatever he was feeling before, now. It’s mixed with anticipation, excitement, and - he feels like he has Lance on the line, in a way. What if they  _ didn’t _ win? What if Lance couldn’t find another job to help support his family, and all this is just wasted time? What happens to Keith, if they don’t win? 

“Keith.” Lance says, rolling his eyes at him. “Stop worrying like that. Stop taking all the blame for yourself, too. You have people around you to help share the burden.”

Keith nods. He hates that he knows Lance is right, but can’t help his feelings anyways.

“Listen.” Lance says, taking Keith’s face in both his hands, comically holding his gaze. “We’re gonna practice every day, okay? Every day until that competition. And if we don’t win... I’m not gonna just drop you, Keith.”

Keith nods, and puts his hands over Lance’s. “I think we have a real shot at this. Honestly. And if… if we don’t make it, then I’ll still help you figure something out. Not to settle any debt but… as.... “ Keith struggles for the word. A friend? But they were more, right? Boyfriend? But that doesn’t quite fit, either. 

“A partner?” Lance offers.

“Yeah.” Keith says, smiling. Dance partner, relationship partner, whatever it was, it felt right. It fit. “We make a good team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was just..some smut.. lol ( 'p' ;)


	7. it’s time to d-d-d-dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry my chapter titles are all over the place lmfao

They practice every day. Keith finds it hard to make up excuses, but final exams are starting soon, so he usually says he’s studying at the library. He feels bad, because he’s sure Shiro and Allura still think he’s working hard to get into a good school. He hasn’t figured out how to tell them, yet.

But Keith _ has _ figured out that Lance’s freckles are smattered across the inside of his thighs, and that he’s developed stark tan lines from his underwear, having spent so much time dancing in the water. He’s figured out just how nice Lance’s long legs are, how his skin is always cool despite the hot weather; despite the burning heat of Keith’s. He’s figured out that Lance’s mouth is good at more than just talking, too.

Keith has figured out that his skin bruises easily, and wearing a scarf in Cuba is almost as unforgiving as a cardigan, so when Pidge eyes the touches of love on his neck he does his best to avoid her smug grin.

Keith has figured out that it’s hard to sleep when he’s nervous. He’s not usually nervous.

 

~

It’s dinnertime, two hours before the competition, when Keith’s heart stops in his chest. 

 

He looks at Allura, dumbstruck, then flits his gaze accusingly to Pidge, who shrugs her shoulders.

“Is that okay, Keith?” Shiro asks. “I know you have exams coming up, but surely we can spend an evening together as a family. We haven’t had a nice outing with the Holt’s in a while, now. Besides, we haven’t seen a dance competition in gosh, years? The Palace is supposed to be a lovely venue. Latin ballroom will be interesting for you to see!”

“Alright.” Keith says, stomach sinking. He doesn’t eat much of the rest of his meal, and excuses himself early. He feels sweaty- not the usual sheen of heat on his skin- as he pins his hair back in the bathroom. They were going to see. The Holt’s were going to see that the proper rags to riches boy they were supposed to send to a high end university was messing around with dirty dancing for an  _ amateur _ competition. The well-behaved sob story that gave the Holt’s company a familial edge was going to be thrown into scandal.

Maybe. Keith puts on a cardigan over his crisp white shirt. It seemed like a big deal because he was in the midst of it, but from the outside, perhaps his worrying was over-dramatic.

 

~

Keith stays at the table for as long as he can manage, placed between Matt and Pidge, enduring their identical smirks until he has to excuse himself to the bathroom.

He walks backstage to where the other competitors are, and scans the crowds for Lance.

His breath catches when he sees him. His eyes are flickering over the crowd in nervousness. His hair is swept back. He’s wearing a white shirt, like Keith’s, and for once it actually fits him, hugging tightly across his broad shoulders, tucked into the small waist of his black pants. 

He spots Keith and grins, excitement and anticipation strung into his features. “Que bonito.”

Keith flushes, and takes Lance’s hand. “Gracias.”

Lance grins wide, and kisses Keith’s forehead quickly. Keith’s heartbeat speeds up when the announcer calls for the dancers to move to the floor, he can feel his pulse beat in Lance’s hand. All the dance couples will be judged together, and for the final competition held a week later, they’ll dance alone.

When they reach the dancefloor, Keith makes it a point to avoid looking at the table everyone is sitting at. He sees Coran, though, and he’s smiling at him warmly, probably teary-eyed, too. 

He clears his mind, though, and focuses instead on the hard drilled routine he and Lance created - but also the feel of the music, letting it build up inside him, flowing like water but burning like a fire. Every step is as sure as its beat and the rise of the tempo is steady with the thrumming of Keith’s heartbeat. He doesn’t hesitate when Lance’s hips fit against his own, a leg snug between him in a sensual grind almost most definitely unfit in the eyes of most guests at this venue. He revels in the touch of Lance’s long fingers as his hand trails down his chest when he dips him low to the floor. 

When Lance pulls him in with a spin, he lets him kiss his mouth, smiling and soft. He moves his hips in a circle, not a box, and he can’t keep his eyes off of him- was this the kind of bond his parents had? He’s not sure- maybe he’s wrong. But right now, right  _ now, _ doesn’t feel wrong at all.

He hardly registers their stop, held close to Lance, breathing the same breath. They could have been dancing for seconds, minutes, hours, he can’t even tell, and his breathing is jumpy and nervous, but he doesn’t think they had one hair out of place. They slowly let go of one another, and Keith takes Lance’s hand as he looks at the judges. He still doesn’t look at his family’s table. Anticipation for the results, and the inevitable conversation he was going to have this evening swirl in his stomach.

The announcer fills the time with compliments on the dancing, the atmosphere, the music, until finally she is handed the envelopes.

“The first couple.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and Keith half wants to run up and rip the envelope from her hands to see the results for himself. Lance is fidgeting by his side. “Blanca de Nueva and Natalia Sanchez!”

Keith’s eyes follow the excited yells to the girls, and he doesn’t feel embarrassed when they kiss, happy and holding each others faces. His attention snaps back to the announcer when she starts to speak again. “The second couple chosen for the night!... Jorge Figueroa and Holly Lush!”

Keith squeezes Lance’s hand. He’s so nervous he can’t look at him, but Lance is rubbing soothing circles into his skin with his thumb, and he tries to quiet the buzzing anxiety in his mind.

“Our third and final couple of the night…” The announcer pauses again, and Keith’s stomach flips so hard that it’s borderline painful. 

He registers Lance’s quiet ‘ _ por favor _ ’ just as the final results of the night are spilling into the speakers.

“Lance Suárez and Keith Kogane!”

Keith blinks for a moment, hardly processing the news, but Lance is tugging his face towards his for kiss that is more of a smash of their mouths together; all teeth and disbelief. Keith curls his arms around Lance, jittery with relief and satisfaction.

“We did it, we did it, ah que madre, Keith.” Lance says, pressing their foreheads together. “Thank you.”

Keith shakes his head, still smiling. Lance’s eyelashes bat against his cheeks as he nuzzles his face into him, making Keith laugh a little before pushing him back. “You go get your prize.”

“Our prize.” Lance says.

“Maybe.” Keith shrugs. “But you’re keeping the money. All of it.”

Lance looks like he’s about to refuse, but he pauses at the look Keith gives him, and nods. “Um.” He looks up, standing back from Keith and nodding at the Holts and Shiro and Allura, all making their way towards him.

“You go.” Keith sighs. “I… should do this on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Lance nods, and he looks like he wants to kiss him again, but his eyes flit towards the oncoming group, so he squeezes Keith’s hand tightly before he heads out.

Keith takes a shaky breath, holds his head up high, and walks to meet them. Shiro and Allura are tight-lipped. Matt is there but Pidge is nowhere to be seen.

It’s Mr. Holt who speaks first. “What, pray tell, was that little spectacle about?”

Keith chews on his lip. “I was helping my friend earn some money. He lost his job at the hotel because he was talking to me. I wanted to do something for him.”

“Your  _ friend _ ?” Mr Holt’s eyebrows lift high - Keith thinks they’ll disappear into his hair. “I thought you were dating _ my son _ .”

“Oh  _ come on _ , dad.” Matt says, voice strained. “Are you kidding? Anyone with eyes can see we weren’t dating. If you paid a little more attention to me than  _ him _ perhaps you’d pick up on that.”

“Now is not the time, Matt.” Mr. Holt says, looking at his son in confusion. “Keith represents our company as much as the rest of us, and this kind of frantic behaviour is unacceptable!”

Keith’s heart sinks. He’s never been reprimanded by Mr. Holt before. At least, not to this extent. He bows his head as he continues on about company values and respect, and can’t bring himself to meet Shiro’s eye.

“Dad, stop wasting your time.” Matt says, pulling on his father’s arm. “He doesn’t even want to go to University. Let him do what he wants.”

Keith gapes at him, because he was sure that bringing up  _ that  _ conversation up  _ right now _ wasn’t going to diffuse the situation.

Mr. Holt stops, and looks at Keith. His expression is unreadable, and Allura’s soft  _ “Oh, Keith.” _ makes him drop his head.

 

He doesn’t speak on the ride to the hotel, nor when Shiro and Allura lead him inside. He quickly makes for his bedroom, but Shiro clears his throat.

“Keith.”

Keith turns, apologies already spilling from his lips, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you both, and I’m sorry I’m such a…”

Allura is looking at him with such a broken expression, his words choke in his throat.

“Keith…” she says. “Don’t be sorry.”

Keith blinks. “What?”

Shiro sighs, and sits down in the armchair he’s closest to.

“You danced beautifully.” Allura says. She takes his hands and guides him to the couch to sit down with her again. “Absolutely stunning.”

“What?” Keith says again - there are so many emotions he’s riding on right now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be feeling.

“We…” Shiro starts, and Allura nods him on. “Keith. We care about you. We care about you  _ so _ much. So do the Holts. Which is why we’ve been so pressing about your studies and what school you want to go to but-”

“We never considered that you mightn’t want any of that.” Allura says, rubbing her hand over Keith’s arm. “All we thought was ‘which school?’, not whether or not you wanted  _ school  _ at all. We can’t imagine the amount of pressure we’ve been putting on you.”

“You should have said something.” Shiro says, leaning forward so his arms rest on his knees. He runs his fingers through his tuft of white hair.

“I…” Keith says. He feels tears burn behind his eyes, but he’s almost too shocked for them to come.

“If you don’t want it now, it’s fine.” Shiro says. “If you decide you want it later, that’s fine too, we’ll work something out. I’ll talk to Sam, I think he’s making a bigger deal out of this than he needs to. And I think he has to sort things out with Matt, but that’s not my place.”

“You’re not...disappointed?” Keith asks, looking between them.

“Of course not.” Allura says, pulling him into a hug. “I was worried sick, though, I didn’t know where you were most of the time… I didn’t believe you when you said the library but I didn’t want to pry… I figured you were out with Matt and just embarrassed, is all.”

“Oh…” Keith says, almost shaking with relief. “But, Mr. Holt, he’s going to-”

“Don’t worry about him.” Shiro says. “He’ll understand, he was just… shocked.”

Keith flushes. Allura’s arms are still loosely wrapped around him.

“You were much more...intimate. Than most of the dancers.” Allura says. 

“That’s why we won.” Keith says. “If you’d seen the dancing in the club, you’d un-”

“Club?” Allura lifts an eyebrow and Keith snaps his mouth shut.

“I mean… it’s… having that extra...intimacy...when dancing-” Keith struggles, and stops when Shiro is laughing at him quietly.

“I knew I saw hickeys.” Allura clicks her tongue, and Keith wants to melt into the floor.

“Oh my god.” Keith says. He tries to stand up but she pulls him back down in her iron grip.

“No way.” Allura laughs. “So this boy, what is his name again?”

“Lance.” Keith tries really,  _ really _ hard not to blush. “Lance Suárez.”

“He seems nice.” Shiro says.

“You don’t even know him!” Keith says, still trying to pry Allura’s arms off of him.

“Is he not nice?” Shiro offers.

“No. He’s stupid and annoying. But okay sometimes. He loves his family.” Keith pouts. He gives up on his struggle with Allura just as she loosens her arms. 

“Do you want to go see him?” she asks. “You did win, after all. Why don’t you celebrate?”

Keith nods.

“On one condition.” Shiro says, making Keith’s stomach start to build a nervous knot. “We’re invited to the final competition.”

“Okay.” Keith nods, then he starts to smile. Allura finally lets him up off the couch, and before he leaves he turns to them again, “Thank you.”

 

~

 

Lance isn’t home. His mother is, and she lets him inside. He doesn’t know if he told her about losing the job at the hotel or not, but she knows about the dance competition. 

“He’s out celebrating.” she says. “Would you like anything to eat? To drink?”

Keith says no but she gets him a tea anyways, and he drinks it despite the humidity.

“You can wait for him here.” She says, offering the couch. “I don’t mind. You look tired.”

Keith accepts the spot, and after a moment he lies down. It’s not long before he’s sleeping, head drooping onto his shoulder.

  
  


“..th

 

...Keith….” 

  
  


Keith blinks his eyes open slowly.

“C’mon, lie down. You’re gonna hurt your neck like that.” Lance says, laughing softly, fingers lifting his jaw.

“Lance!” 

Lance laughs a little louder, and Keith sits upright. Lance is kneeling on the floor, level to Keith’s face.

“Um, how did-”

Keith cuts him off by throwing his arms around him, pulling him close. He smells like sweat and cheap beer.

“It’s fine.” Keith whispers. “Shiro and Allura liked our dancing. Matt told Mr. Holt that I didn’t want to go to school, and he was pretty ticked about the dancing, too, because I’m technically a company representative, being so close to the family, but… I think he’ll come around.”

Lance’s fingers rub small circles into his back. “Did you tell my  mamá I lost my job?”

“No.” Keith says, burying his face further into Lance’s neck. He sighs.

“I think she already knows.” Lance says. “But I won’t mention it until I find something else.”

“Can she come to the next competition?” Keith asks.

Lance snorts, and Keith realizes he’s asked a stupid question. Tickets cost  _ money. _ Too much to waste precious prize money on.

“Sorry.” Keith says. He rubs his eyes.

“Might be for the best.” Lance says. He tangles his fingers with Keith’s, and kisses the back of his hand. “I’m kinda nervous. Big events like that...they draw the wrong kind of attention sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

Lance shrugs. “You know. Rebel groups or whatever. They’re a target. It’s been quiet lately though.”

“But you have a bad feeling?” Keith asks.

Lance shrugs again. “I think I’m just nervous about the final...I’m overthinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Lance laughs and presses his forehead against Keith’s, squeezing his hand. Keith sneaks a kiss against Lance’s mouth, and moves over on the couch. Lance lets him lean on his shoulder, and he tangles his fingers through his hair. Keith is only mildly flustered when Lance’s mother finds them like that, drifting in and out of sleep, limbs together and his cheek resting on Lance’s chest, heartbeat a steady flutter in his ear.


	8. Falling into You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter!! 'o'

“You’re gonna trip if you don’t chill out.” Pidge says. She bumps her shoulder against his as they walk into the Palace. Shiro and Allura follow behind, and the Holts are here somewhere too, but Keith thinks they’re still getting their car parked.

Keith smiles at her, but catches the pointed look she shoots at him, and he looks back, “I can’t help it, you know.”

She shrugs. “My mom said she liked your dancing.”

“She did?” Keith says, incredulous. “She doesn’t seem the type.”

“Neither do you.” Pidge says, and Keith can’t argue with that. “I think you’ll do fine, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Keith says, honestly. Pidge holds out her hand, and Keith follows her finger as she points into the crowd.

“Is that him?” 

“Yeah.” Keith says, a smile immediately on his face at the sight of Lance. He’s wearing his crisp white shirt again, just as Keith. He tucks his hair behind his ear, and glances back at Shiro and Allura who look proud and positively embarrassing.

“Hey.” he says, when he reaches Lance.

“Um. I brought you flowers.” Lance says, the tips of his ears red. He hands Keith a small bouquet of flowers he can’t name, all white and pink and yellow. He still has two flowers in his hand, and he gives one to Pidge, and one to Allura with a playful wink. “They’re from my mother’s garden.”

“Thanks.” Pidge says, grinning.

“Thank you…” Allura says, sounding uncertain at his flirting. Keith wants to berate him for it, but Lance is speaking -

“Lance.” Lance offers his hand to each of them. Keith realizes he didn’t even introduce them.

“We have to go.” Keith says, as soon as they’re finished the formalities. He takes Lance’s arm and pulls him away.

“We’ll be watching!” Allura says, waving them goodbye.

“Good luck!” Shiro calls. Pidge gives a double thumbs up, and he almost groans when Lance shoots finger guns back at her.

Lance is grinning happily as they go backstage.

“What?” Keith frowns.

“Your mom is pretty.” he says.

“She’s not my mom.” Keith frowns some more.

“Are you jealous?” Lance lifts a teasing eyebrow.

“What? No.” Keith sighs, annoyed. “How are you so calm?”

“Because we’re gonna win.” Lance says. He holds Keith’s hand and waits for the judges to call their names. Keith doesn’t miss that it’s shaking.

 

~

 

This time, on the dancefloor, Keith looks for Shiro and Allura. They smile at him, both leaning forward in their seats. Pidge gives a little wave. He chances a glance at the Holts, and Matt looks happy enough, and his mother looks interested. Mr. Holt’s face is unreadable, but that’s better than nothing, Keith supposes. He’s in the middling of his supposing when the music starts up and Lance pulls him into the first steps of their dance, and then his attention falls completely on him.

He’s busy falling in love with the way he moves when he notices the slip in Lance’s form, which he catches quickly, but it shocks Keith, the way Lance is suddenly distracted. 

Lance is perceptive. He catches discontinuity quickly. Keith is almost prepared for the shout, the ear-splitting, screeching stop of music and the rising panic -

“He’s got a gun!”

Lance is grabbing Keith’s shoulders and pulling him away.

“Keith!” Keith hears Shiro calling his name, voice strained to shout over the chaos. He has Pidge practically hauled up into his arms, and Allura is close behind.

Blood rushes and pounds heavy in his ears as Keith looks back to them, but Lance is still pulling him. “Wait! They’re still-”

“This way!” Lance shouts back at him, waiting only a moment for them to catch up before shoving through the crowd and back through the stage. He pushes open a side exit and rushes them all through into the narrow corridor.

“Don’t go on the main road.” He says, turning. He’s still gripping Keith’s forearm hard enough to bruise. “Go this way, and take your second left. You’ll be on a back road. Follow it towards the sea and you’ll know how to get to the hotel.”

“You’re not coming?” Keith says.

“Hunk was working the kitchen.” Lance says, making to head back inside.

Keith is vaguely reminded of Hunk’s  _ two jobs  _ statement. “I’m coming with you.” 

“No!” Lance says, pushing him off. “You get your family to safety. I’ll meet you at the hotel. Now  _ leave _ .”

Keith goes to grab him but Shiro is pulling him back, and he fumes, breathing heavy through his nose and following grudgingly, keeping a sharp eye for anyone lurking in the narrow alley.

He almost turns back at the sound of a gunshot, but Allura grabs him fast and pushes him along.

“Lance will be fine. He’s a smart boy. I can tell.” Allura says.

“He’s kinda stupid sometimes.” Keith mutters.

“Listen. We get to safety first.” Shiro says. “There’s a point where it’s safer to pull back, Keith.”

Police cars zip past them when they reach the road, but there aren’t many people, just as Lance said. Keith can still hear shouts coming from the Palace, and a nervous feeling rips into his gut and up through his chest.

He refuses to go inside the hotel gates, wanting to wait on the road for Lance, and he knows Shiro only lets him stay outside because he can see the hotel entrance from their living room view. The sun had long set, but he waits anxiously and watches as the moon crosses the sky.

He lifts his head at footsteps, then clamours to his feet.

Even in the dim light, Keith can see he’s a little banged up. His lip is split a little and his shirt is all ruffled. He looks like he tried to flatten his hair but there are still pieces sticking out.

“Hey.” Lance says. 

Keith scowls at him and punches him in the shoulder - not too hard, but enough that Lance yelps. 

“What the h-” Keith cuts him off with a firm kiss.

“Don’t  _ do _ that to me.” Keith says. “I was waiting forever. There were gunshots! Is Hunk okay?”

Lance nods. “All of you out okay? The rest of the Holts?”

Keith nods. Pidge had cried when the three of them returned to the hotel, not long after they did. “I couldn’t even get you.”

“I was fine.” Lance says. Keith eyes the blood on his lip, not completely dried yet, staining down his brown skin. “Besides,  if you left, Shiro would have just come after you, then. Allura, too. It’s in the past, now. Under control.” Lance waves his hand.“I’m here.”

Keith presses his lips together at the truth of it, but he doesn’t like it any  _ better _ just because it’s true. He takes Lance’s hand, rubbing his fingers over the bruises, and starts walking.

“Where are we going?” Lance asks.

“We didn’t finish our dance.” Keith frowns. Grumbles. He’s bitter and his nerves are on edge and he just wants to let it all out. 

Lance is silent, and he lets himself get tugged along towards the beach. They walk and walk, all in silence, but Lance moves so he’s beside Keith instead of half a step behind.

Keith kicks off his shoes and strips down to his underwear as soon as they reach the sand, and Lance laughs, watching him with shining eyes.

“What are you doing?” Lance is stripping too, though, the white of his shirt still stark against his brown skin. It’s a pretty contrast, and Keith almost wants to tell him to keep it on.

“Getting in the water.” Keith says. He walks towards the slowly moving ebb of the ocean, looking back at Lance only when the sea meets his thighs.

Lance is slowly toeing into the water. Keith watches him wince when the salt water gets into the rawness on his knuckles.

Keith holds up his arms, and waits for Lance to step into them. When he does, he holds him close, and sways his hips with the water. Their movements are severely hindered by the ocean, but Keith feels calm like this. The sea has a steady flow, but it’s unpredictable, too. It’s both all at once, and it’s in the certainty of the instability where Keith finds comfort.

Lance starts to mouth at Keith’s neck, tongue laving over his pulse, his lips tickling his ear.

“D’you wanna move this dance to the beach?” Lance asks. Keith rolls his eyes at how cheesy he sounds, and maybe makes sure that Lance sees his amusement. “One of those fancy tourist beach tents, maybe?”

Keith snorts, but he takes Lance’s hand and they walk out of the water. Keith dries himself off as much as he can with his shirt, but the sand still sticks to his skin. Lance peeps inside one of the privacy tents, the rest of their clothes all bundled up in his arms, and disappears inside. 

Keith follows him through the loose flaps, and falls into kissing, tasting all the salt on Lance’s skin and the metallic blood on his lips. Lance spreads his legs out underneath him and Keith slips between, rolling his hips and drinking up every noisy gasp Lance lets escape.

Lance’s hands roam over Keith’s shoulders, his chest, thumb brushing over his nipple and his tongue hot in his mouth. Keith slips a hand between them and Lance groans, lifting up his hips into Keith’s touch.

“Can we try something?” Lance asks, lips against Keith’s neck. Keith pulls back, sitting on Lance’s thighs. Lance’s hands run up and down his legs, and heat pools low into his stomach. Keith nods.

“Get me my pants.” Lance says, reaching out his arm. Keith leans over and grabs them, curious.

Lance fiddles a bit, erection rubbing slightly against Keith’s, making him grind his hips into him, almost subconsciously.

Lance finds what he’s looking for, and proudly produces a small vial, wiggling it up at Keith. Keith furrows his brow, then realization hits him with a blush to his cheeks.

“You had that in your pocket?”

“Yeah.” Lance says. “Thought we might have some fun after, you know.”

“What if it had fallen out on the dancefloor?” Keith balks.

“It didn’t, though!” Lance says.

Keith frowns anyways. “What are we using it for?”

“What-” Lance almost drops the bottle. “You don’t … know?”

Keith clicks his tongue. “I meant it like… what do you want to  _ do _ .”

Lance flashes him a grin. “You.”

Keith feels his blush ripple down through his neck. 

“Eventually, at least.” Lance laughs, tangling his fingers with Keith’s. “You haven’t done anything besides?- ” Lance makes a jerking off motion with his free hand and Keith rolls his eyes.

“Yeah.” Keith says. “That’s it.”

“Okay, then you do me.” Lance says, wiggling his hips.

“What”?” Keith almost yelps, and Lance laughs.

“Just your fingers, it’s okay.” Lance says, still laughing. “You try it for yourself when you’re alone, and if you like it let me know.”

Keith nods once, face flushed. He’d....thought about it, before. Definitely. But he wasn’t about to buy lube with Pidge hanging around all the time. She’d find it. And if she didn’t find it she would  _ know. _

Lance starts to wriggle underneath him, and Keith raises up on his knees as Lance rids himself of his boxers. Keith bites his lip at the sight of his cock, half-hard, nestled in wiry curls. Lance leans back on his elbows and spreads his legs wide, tan thighs open just for Keith.

He feels his dick pulse, and he leans over Lance to kiss him again, letting one hand rest on his smooth thigh, tantalizing over a splash of freckles.

Lance taps him on the head and he looks up. He’s holding the vial in front of his face, so Keith takes it and opens it up. He sees inside that it’s half gone, and he blushes in spite of himself. In spite of sitting between Lance’s legs. In spite of Lance’s dick leaking precum because of  _ him _ .

Lance shuffles his hips, and Keith leans down to kiss the flat of his stomach. He tongues the dip of Lance’s hipbone, and Lance shudders and cards his fingers through Keith’s tangled hair. He nervously touches the spot behind his tight balls, and Lance shivers some more - Keith watches the flutter of puckered skin as he presses the flat of his finger against it; he circles it, spreading the lube and tensing his stomach against the sound Lance makes when he pushes against him.

“Go ahead.” Lance says, eyes steady on Keith’s face. He holds his gaze as Keith presses a finger in slowly -it’s so hot, so soft, and he takes him easily. Keith’s eyes flicker down to where Lance pulls him in. He moves slowly, and Lance sighs. He strokes Lance’s cock with his free hand, thumbing over the slit, squeezing a little harder at the base. He hesitantly leans forward to suck the head of his cock into his mouth, tasting the salt of the sea on his shaft and the saltiness of his cum on the tip of his tongue. He smells heady and fresh all at once, and Keith closes his eyes when he sinks a little lower, not minding the sharp pull of Lance’s fingers in his hair- liking it, really. He’s so  _ so  _ hard but there’s nothing to rut against, no pressure to press himself to, but the heat coils and makes his cock jump at every raucous noise Lance makes. He’s shameless.

“Add another.” Lance says after a moment, breathless. Keith pulls off of his cock and pulls out to add more lube to this fingers. Lance’s legs tense around Keith, prompting him closer. He hisses at the press and Keith stills, but Lance just huffs a laugh and groans when Keith slips his fingers in, it’s a little tighter, and Keith crooks his fingers to press inside, to push up, and Lance’s voice is clear as he moans, eyes shut tight. He fits his hand over Keith’s and presses him deeper, and when he brushes the bundle of nerves Lance starts fucking himself down on Keith’s fingers, and it’s all Keith can do not to come at the sight of him, flushed and sweaty, sand sticking to his skin and hair sticking to his face. Keith pumps him faster, mesmerized - he’s so  _ gorgeous _ , and Keith thinks he understands that line Lance keeps muttering at him;  _ Me vuelves loco. _

His heart pounds when Lance clenches around his fingers, legs trapping him as he comes in hot pulses over his stomach, Spanish praises spilling out of his mouth like he’s praying fast.

He keens and pulls Keith forward, not minding the mess on his stomach as he kisses him senseless, reaching a hand down Keith’s still wet briefs to grip him with a calloused hand. Keith catches the end of Lance’s name on his lips when he comes with just a few tight strokes. He collapses onto him, sticky mess ignored, and tucks his head into his neck, his scent all sea breeze and sweat.

Lance finds his hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses his palm, his wrist, and hums against his skin. Keith can feel his heartbeat against his lips, where his mouth is idly pressed to his brown neck.

“We didn’t win.” Keith murmurs. He feels high strung, tired, muscles aching. He feels happy and angry and sad, and he’s really annoyed at himself for thinking he could only ever feel one emotion at once - life was never that simple, never that black and white. Never that stable.

He feels Lance shrug. His breath is hot on Keith’s palm when he speaks, “Consolation prize was pretty good, though.”

Keith laughs against his neck. Smiles. He lets Lance trace invisible words onto his back until it starts to tickle, and he rolls off of him to fall asleep on his bony arm, not caring about how badly the sand will work it’s way into his hair.

  
  


Lance walks him home in the morning. He kisses Keith’s cheek and invites him to dinner, with a squeeze of his hand and a slap to his ass that makes Keith punch his shoulder before he goes.

 

When Pidge sees him in the morning, he can see she’d prepared a sympathetic face, but her eyes squint quickly at his disheveledness and he tries to escape before she can look too long.

It’s a wasted effort, though, because breakfast is being served and Keith has to sit through awkward silence before Pidge finally opens her big mouth.

“So you must’ve topped because you’re walking just fine.”

“Pidge!” Shiro scolds, and Allura frowns at her. 

“Where did you learn that terminology?”

Keith isn’t even sure how to retaliate, so he broods into his pineapple and crepes.

“I’m just  _ saying _ .” She says, exasperated. “He’s my...brother?, he’s supposed to tell me these things.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow at her. Brother? “Does Matt tell you these things?”

“Ew, no.” She shakes her head in disgust. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, sis.”

“No. No, no, no.” she lifts a finger at him, threatening, and Keith vaguely wonders if she’s somehow been spending time with Yolanda. “You stop that.”

Keith glances at Shiro, who’s smiling knowingly down at his plate, and Allura is resting her head in her hands. Keith finishes off his breakfast quickly, and finally  _ finally _ makes it to a shower.

 

The silence is short lived because not long after he washes the sand from his impossible-to-brush hair, Pidge is banging on the door.

“Do you ever go home?” Keith shouts at her. He was finished anyways, but still.

“I’m kinda in a fight with my dad.” she shouts back .”Duh.”

“What? Why?” Keith says. He towels off. Pidge turns off the fan so she can hear him better. 

“Because he was an asshole. To you. I’m salty about it, okay?” Keith can almost see her shrug. “I need to brush my teeth!”

“One  _ second _ !” Keith says, unlocking the door. He ties his towel around his waist just as she bursts through. She’s here so often she has her toothbrush in his bathroom. He shakes his head, but he should probably have accepted this by now.

She puts way too much toothpaste onto her brush. No wonder he always ran out so fast. “So, you didn’t win.”

Keith is reminded of Lance’s joke about a consolation prize, and he can feel himself blush but his cheeks are thankfully already warmed from the shower. He reaches for his toothbrush and puts a perfectly acceptable amount of toothpaste on it.

“Allura told me not to tell you, but she’s gonna hire Lance as a dance instructor.” Pidge speaks through her toothbrush. She splatters spit and foam on the mirror.

“What?” Keith almost drops his toothbrush. “Wait, what?”

“She said classes were really picking up, and she and Coran can’t do it alone. Especially if he decides to go home. And you only help her out  _ never _ , so.” She shrugs.

“She told you not to tell me?”

“She wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Then.” Keith sighs. He spits into the sink. Pidge spits too, and he’s pretty sure she gets it on his toothbrush. “Why did you  _ tell me? _ ”

Pidge shrugs. “Felt like it. She has to get stuff cleared with the hotel manager, but it’s Allura. She won’t have a problem with it.”

“You’re a sweaty little gremlin, Pidge.” Keith says, but he feels a little lighter. He hopes Lance will take the job… He huffs when Pidge spits again into the sink and doesn’t even rinse it out.

“You’re a pasty emo kid. These are facts we’re throwing, not insults.”

Keith presses his arm against hers, about to claim an equal lack of a tan for the both of them, but frowns at the golden brown of her arm.

“Told you.” Pidge says. “Who’s dumb enough that they can’t get a tan in  _ Cuba _ .”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get out. I gotta change.”

She pushes her glasses up on her nose and flashes him a crooked grin when she leaves.

“Asshole.” Keith mutters, but he’s smiling when he says it. He’s been doing more of that, lately. 

 

~

 

Pidge sleeps over that night. And the next. And the next.  Eventually Keith decides he should make the first move and apologize to Mr. Holt, instead of having Shiro awkwardly tip toe around them, but it looks like he and Matt are already closer, so that’s a positive sign. He’s working up the right way to express his apology but also his reasoning, trying to find  middle ground for the both of them. Shiro tells him to take his time, to have patience. He tries.

 

Keith takes Matt to  León del Arco and tries to teach him to dance, until Lance cuts in and takes over because he’s “authentic, and therefore obviously much better”. 

He takes Pidge (Pidge insists she come along) to Lance’s house for dinner, and Keith is floored when she strikes up a rapid fire conversation with Hunk about his mechanics - he wasn’t going to be seeing any less of her, then. Surprisingly, he’s not that annoyed.

 

Allura tells him to meet her in the dance studio because her class accidentally overbooked, and if he helps her out she’ll stop leaving  _ Safe Sex _ pamphlets on his bed (in both English  _ and _ Spanish -  _ “It’s important that Lance understands this information, as well! _ ”)

He ties his hair up into a ponytail - it’s gotten a bit longer. Lance’s mom keeps offering to cut it - he’s afraid she’ll come for him with scissors while he’s sleeping, at this point. He takes a deep breath and sighs, mentally preparing himself for the crowded lesson.

He pushes open the doors to an empty studio. He checks his watch for the time, but it’s 9AM, just like Allura said. 

He looks up again, and his eyes fall into blue.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooo so much for reading!!! It means a lot to me! ^_^
> 
> sorry Matt and Sam seem kinda asshole-y ? they mean well haha.. all for the sake of an au u kno..  
> even during the commotion I had to make keith+ family leave... ah the toils..
> 
> anyways!!! thank you again!! 
> 
> @cattchi on tumblr and @_cattchi on twitter!!!!!  
> i love voltron!!!!!!!!! ฅ(*ΦωΦ*) ฅ

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! ^_^  
> @cattchi on tumblr and @_cattchi on twitter!!!!  
> i love voltron!!! and cats!!!! ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎


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